Once Long Ago
by indulgence
Summary: Surrounded by death, Sakura reminisces of things long gone. Sakura POV: Once long ago I could have loved him and truly believed it hints of KakaSaku


**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

The rain splatters against me. It begins to rain harder, and I close my eyes not because I want to enjoy the cool rain trickling down my skin. No…no. I want to pretend that the rain has not turned into a shadow of dark crimson as it consumes the blood that drenches the earth. My hand reaches out to cup the falling raindrops and I think to myself, once long ago I would have stood in the rain and truly enjoyed it.

I sigh. My eyes roam around the clearing and stop once sightless eyes stare blankly at me. My chest tightens at the sight and my lips press tightly against each other. I think quietly of the words that I will say to Neji and I find myself believing that before he even hears me; he will already know. I slowly limp my way to her. Once I reach her side, I crouch slightly and pain crisscrosses through my veins, reminding me of the gashes I bear at my side and legs. I ignore it as my hand moves to tuck the straying chocolate hair now matted with blood behind her ears. They are like chocolate covered liquor cherries that have been crushed against the palm of a hand. Her long hair pokes out from their usual throne of buns. It had come undone during her fight. Neji's fiancé fought fiercely, never letting panic overrun her, even when the inevitable truth of her situation slapped her in the face.

I turn my attention to her face and carefully close her eyes which look on at me with envy, even though it is I that is quite envious. Once long ago I would have believed it when they tell me how lucky I am for being the only one left standing in a battlefield and truly agreed with it. But how can one be lucky when the stench of death is all he can smell? How can one be lucky when littered corpses of people are all he can dream about when he lays down to sleep at night? How can one be lucky when he can no longer shed tears for a fallen comrade?

I pull out of my thoughts as something pricks my senses. It is his presence and he is closing in. I raise myself from my position and turn around slowly, half-fearing of what sight will greet me. There he stands seemingly untouched by the war around us, though his black attire shimmers with blood and boosts itself with cuts and tears. It is the little slouch on his shoulders that speaks of his weariness, but his face…it betrays nothing. Once long ago I would have admired that about him and truly wonder if I would be able to keep my emotions at bay. But now as I mirror his face a feeling of loss overwhelms me. Our faces maybe expressionless but our eyes are shadowed and that alone belies a deeper kind of suffering that penetrates beyond the shell of flesh and bones only to bleed a beleaguered soul.

He could see the thoughts suffocating my mind. He touches my cheeks and uplifts my chin so that my eyes would bore against his mismatched ones; one the color of startling red that gives him a pretense vision of a future and the other a darkened gray that reminds him of what he has lost. He sees the struggle weakening my frame and he pulls me closer against him. His arms wrap around my shoulders. He says nothing but that is enough for the both of us. To us, words are manipulative; promising something that does not exist. In silence there are no illusions but a truth that could not be washed away. And that is enough. Once long ago, I would have craved more and demanded it.

The cold seeps in through my clothes and I shiver. The rain has gotten stronger and he directs his attention to the dark clouds looming above us. My waning energy begins to assert itself on my body. He notices the sudden change in me and clutches me tighter. My head lolls back, and I struggle to stop my vision from swimming away. I try to hold on to my slipping consciousness and find myself looking at a pair of worried eyes. I give him a ghost of a smile and with a shaky hand brush his silver mane away from his face.

Once long ago he was a teacher and I was his student.

But that was a long time ago, when I could smile and truly mean it; when I could cry and truly feel it, when I could love and truly believe it. Now…these things are beyond me.

But as he holds me tenderly and wraps his fingers around mine; I am reminded that these are the times when I wish I could love him.

I lean deeper into him and kiss him softly on his lips.

Once long ago, maybe I could have. But not now.

Never now.

_**finis**_


End file.
